


A Little High

by iheartkarmy



Category: Faking It (TV 2014)
Genre: Amy gets cheated on, COOPERFELD, F/F, Karmy break up, Lauren gets high, Liam is a Little Shit, Non sisters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6126116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iheartkarmy/pseuds/iheartkarmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lauren is new to Austin and quickly starts dating Liam Booker, the most popular boy in school. But one night at a party thrusts her and Amy Raudenfeld, half of the school's lesbian supercouple, together in an unexpected way and soon has Lauren questioning everything she thinks she knows about herself. Filling a Cooperfeld request from a tumblr anon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Worst.  Thing.  Ever.

The first time she kisses Amy Raudenfeld is a week after the party ( _the_ party, _Shane's_ party, the 'she should have been homecoming queen and not queen of running from the house in tears' party). It's in Amy's house, in her room, against her closet door and, for the _life of her_ , Lauren can't understand how she got there.

Not that she's complaining. Not _exactly_ , anyway.

The first time she kisses Amy Raudenfeld (which is really more of _Amy_ kissing _her_ , but that's a technicality and one that only lasts a second or two or maybe three cause then she's kissing _back_ and who kissed who is kinda moot _then_ ) Lauren spends most of the kiss ( _most_ , not _all_ , definitely not the part when Amy swipes her tongue across her lips or when Amy's hands find her hips or when Amy presses her hard against the door and she has to go up on her tiptoes to keep contact) wondering 'what if?'

What if she'd never gone to that party? What if, that night, she'd skipped the brownies (at least the second one) (or the third) ( _definitely_ the third.) What if she'd never ended up in the hall and Amy had never found her there?

What if she'd remembered which bedroom Amy had taken her to and _not_ gone back to the _wrong_ one? And, mostly, what if Liam Booker wasn't a cheating ass and Karma Ashcroft really was a lesbian and what if what if what if…

Lots of what ifs. _Lots_.

The first time she kisses Amy Raudenfeld, Lauren spends _most_ of the time wondering and worrying and thinking (because she's _Lauren_ ) and she doesn't really let herself enjoy it as much as maybe she should or at least _see_ if she enjoys it cause it's her first time with Amy and her first time with a _girl_ , period, and those are the kinds of things Lauren knows you have to really _experience_ , that you have to be _there_ and _in the moment_ to know, for sure, if they're for you or not.

The first time, she spends too much time inside her own head to know any of that and that's _totally_ the only reason there's a _second_ time.

Totally.

* * *

A week before the first time she kisses Amy Raudenfeld (the night she actually _meets_ Amy), Lauren is at a party _and_ high out of her fucking mind.

Not _a_ party. _The_ party. _The_ Shane Harvey pre-Homecoming, pre the big dance, pre the crowning of new high school royalty party.

She's been at Hester, and in Austin, for two months. Her daddy moved them there for "business" and yes, Lauren is smart enough and aware enough to know that "business" is code for "complications" and "complications" is code for he got caught with his little Bruce in the wrong place ( _again_ ) and yes, she's smart enough and aware enough to know that probably the daddy issues she's got from that have a lot (read: _everything_ ) to do with why it takes her less than a month to land Liam Booker as her first Hester boyfriend.

Not Liam Booker. _The_ Liam Booker. _The_ Liam Booker known all the way to Dallas, the Liam Booker son of Squirkle, the straight half of the Harvey-Booker ruling class, the most popular guy in school.

The guy who got dumped by his last girlfriend after she caught him with little Liam in the wrong place (read: her sister) and now _she's_ the one no one talks to and _she's_ the one who won't be at the party and _she's_ the one whose family may be moving out of town for "business".

Lauren sees the irony and the bullshit and the total unfairness of it all.

But it's high school and that girl's loss is her gain and it's not like she really likes Liam (much) or really thinks he's that hot (at least not with his shirt on or whenever he speaks) or even really _wants_ to date him (it's a means to an end a necessary evil and all that) so she doesn't feel too bad about it all.

And it doesn't hurt that Liam can _kiss_. Her lips _mostly_ but more... _other_ places.

It also doesn't hurt that he gets her in places like _the_ party. Places that she wouldn't have needed anyone's help (particularly not the help of a _boy_ and yes, Lauren is quite sure that kissing skills and abs of steel and money, money, money aside, Liam Booker is a _boy_ ) getting into back in Dallas. Back there, _she_ was the Shane, minus the penis and the gay (though sometimes - _most_ times - she has to deal with him, Lauren's pretty sure she's got _way_ bigger balls than Shane ever will). She didn't need anyone to help her or to give her social standing coattails to ride on.

But that was Dallas and this is Austin. And here down is up and up is down and out is in and traditional ( _right_ ) and normal (also _right_ ) and not weird or trendy or of-the-moment (things Lauren has never been accused of being) don't provide the sort of social capital they should.

So a hot boyfriend doesn't hurt. And if he's not opposed to (and kinda good at) making her cum (and not all that interested in her returning the favor which she knows, _later_ , should have been a fucking tip off, like he just wanted _practice_ , cause competing with a _lesbian_ ) well, that's just fine too.

It's fine, right up until the moment she staggers back into the wrong bedroom (which, all things considered, might be the _right_ bedroom, though she and Amy might disagree on _that_ ) at _the_ party and finds her hot boyfriend with his little (and that is, she discovers, a surprisingly _accurate_ description) somewhere it shouldn't be.

And it isn't just that it shouldn't be because that somewhere isn't _her_ (cause, once she _sees_ , she's kinda grateful) and not just because that somewhere is also _taken_ (cause it's high school and infidelity may as well be an item on the cafeteria menu) but mostly because that somewhere is supposed to be a dick (and she totally means actual penis and not 'he's a tool' dick) free zone.

Cause Lauren may not be as hip and as cool and as open minded as Hester might like, but even _she_ knows that lesbians aren't supposed to be bent over the edge of a bed, getting pounded from behind and begging for the _boy_ to go harder and faster and moaning in like a three octave range.

She guesses, right then (standing in that bedroom doorway with Amy right behind her and neither of them can move or speak or really do much of anything besides stare) that what everyone says is true.

Karma Ashcroft _does_ have the best voice in school.

* * *

The night she meets Amy Raudenfeld (and the night they share some chips and some talk and the experience of finding _her_ boyfriend fucking _her_ girlfriend) is also the first time Lauren gets high.

_That_ is totally Karma's fault.

Hers and Liam's and, later that night when she's finally alone and not crying (which should tell her _something_ ) and not high (though she kinda wishes she was) and rubbing Amy's back and trying to think of soothing words to calm her, Lauren will realize just how much of the blame for _entire_ night falls squarely in Karma Ashcroft's lap.

Or somewhere in that general _area_.

The losing of the boyfriend is _obvious_ (though Lauren isn't sure how much of a _loss_ it really is and she's already figuring how to spin it to her advantage so maybe it's more of a _favor_ but still…). Amy's tears and the awkward, laying on her bed and trying to be a good friend even though we only met like _two_ hours ago moments is Karma's fault too and so is Lauren's high, the very thing that got her in this fucking mess to begin with.

Getting high is Lauren's nightmare. Too much loss of control (cause _any_ loss of control is _too_ much), too many chances she'll say _something_ about _something_ and people will know _something,_ too much of a chance that she'll tell someone (like Shane) (or Liam) (or all of _them_ ) how she really feels about them and their bass-ackwards town and school and really, she doesn't care what _any_ of them think, but if she's gonna be stuck here for the next three years, she kinda doesn't want to spend it in social exile.

So, yeah. Getting high? Worst. Thing. Ever.

And totally Karma's fault. Hers _and_ Liam's (again) cause _she_ brought the brownies and _he_ doesn't keep Lauren from eating the first one.

Or the second. And he's fucking disappeared by the time she reaches for the third and, later, when she finds out that at _that_ moment, while she's reaching for more calories and trans fats and (probably) _gluten_ , when she finds out _exactly_ where he is (and she totally means the _bedroom_ and _not_ balls deep in Ashcroft, though that _is_ where he is and that _is_ the vision that will stick with her - and with Amy - for like the rest of her life) that will just make it worse.

She was getting high. He was getting laid.

Later on, Lauren knows Amy would probably disagree, but she's kinda thinking that maybe she got the better end of _that_ deal.

She finishes the third brownie (third in fifteen minutes) and wobbles up and off the couch, only vaguely noticing that Liam isn't there and even less vaguely wondering where he might be but she knows ( _knows_ ) he's not here and this is where he's _supposed_ to be because he's supposed to stop her from things like three brownies in fifteen minutes cause he knows how she feels about empty calories.

Empty. _Empty._ Kind of like them. Empty.

She should, she knows, break up with him. Not over the brownies cause that would be _silly_ , but cause, really, there's nothing to him except abs and lips and money and maybe ( _maybe_ ) something (something _little_ ) she _might_ have let him show her tonight if, you know, she wasn't high (cause she _so_ is) and he hadn't disappeared (cause he _so_ has).

"But none of that is what you build a relationship on, am I right?"

The silence and the empty air around her and the unoccupied couch and the tray with one more brownie (mmmm…. _brownie_ ) on it all agree. So it's settled. She's dumping him. Just as soon as she's not high anymore.

She'd do it now, right now, right this _very second_. Except he's not here. And she's not sure she'd remember. But when she comes down? _Mark her words._ She's dumping him. _So_ dumping him.

Right after she has another brownie.

Or maybe some chips. Yeah… _chips_. Cool Ranch. Gotta be Cool Ranch cause… well… _cool._ And _ranch_. And none of that annoying red crumbs and crap that gets all over your fingers and then everyone can tell you've been eating the chips cause that won't do cause chips are _more_ empty calories and sugars and chemicals and carbs and and and

_So Good_.

Lauren _loves_ Cool Ranch.

"Shh," she whispers. "Don't tell anyone. It's a _secret_."

The empty hall between Shane's kitchen and the living room totes agrees to keep its mouth shut and never tell a soul.

Lauren stands there for a minute, in the hall, watching as people drift by her. The sober part of her (it's small and annoying and so _a lot_ like her, she guesses) watches them, trying to guess how many brownies they've had, trying to gauge their level of highness.

Is that a word? Highness? _Your_ Highness. A princess. A queen.

I'm a queen.

Where was she?

Right. _Chips_. Totes getting some chips.

And she will. She _totally_ will. Right after she sits down for a minute. Just one. She just needs to rest her feet. Just a little rest. She'll only be a minute.

And that's where Amy finds her. Leaning against the wall in the Harvey hallway as people step over her and her head lolls to the side and there's a little bit of drool forming in the corner of her mouth.

A week later, as Amy's lips press against hers and Lauren's hands find their way to Amy's ass and there's moans (and she's doesn't _know_ which of them started _that_ but she's pretty _sure_ it was her cause… _fuck…_ Amy can _kiss_ ) Lauren wonders what if.

What if Amy _had_ walked on by?

It's only one kiss (that becomes two and then three and then there's a bed beneath her and Amy on top of her and whoever would have thought Lauren would _enjoy_ being topped?) so it's probably too soon to tell.

But maybe, she thinks (at least for a moment before Amy's hands slide under the back of her shirt and she loses the ability) getting high wasn't the _worst_ thing ever.


	2. Those Girls

The night she finds out her boyfriend (such as he is) is cheating on her with the school's #2 lesbian (cause, let's face it, Amy's #1 and always will be cause, well, people like _her_ ), Lauren remembers sitting down in the hall.

And not much else.

That's not _entirely_ true. She remembers brownies. Three of them, to be precise (and Lauren is nothing if not precise.) And she remembers Liam or, more accurately, a _lack_ of Liam (and she also, vaguely, remembers _not_ feeling like that was the most horrible thing ever except that it left her unattended around the brownies and that _was_ a bad thing.)

(very bad)

(supa bad) (cause she only thinks words like 'supa' when she's high or drunk) (she thinks) (first time high after all) (drunk… that's a different story but that was back in Dallas and back in Dallas people had her back and she wishes she was back there and that's an _awful_ lot of back in one tiny thought and oh… she remembers chips too)

Mmmm… chips.

The night she finds her boyfriend (and really, that was only cause he was the _only_ even _remotely_ suitable choice in the whole school cause Shane is gay and the next best option was Tommy and… _no_ ) giving Karma Ashcroft all he's got (think carrot) ( _baby_ carrot) Lauren remembers sitting down in the hall and she remembers brownies and chips but she doesn't - no matter how hard she tries - remember how she made it from the hall to the bed she wakes up in. The clock sitting on the bedside table tells her it's like an hour later than she last remembers but it refuses to tell her (even when she asks) (politely) (and yeah, she's still _high_ ) how she got there or, even more importantly (at least to her first ten seconds she's awake brain) why she still has _no chips._

At eleven seconds, the rest of her brain (the parts that aren't still sorta high or thinking about chips, which is far fewer parts than she might like) kicks in and Lauren realizes ( _again_ ) that she's in a bedroom (not her own) and in a bed (also not hers, though quite comfy) and she's tucked under a duvet (totally the _wrong_ color for the room) and it's pulled up to right under her chin, like she's six and might wriggle free and fall out of the bed and injure herself and she feels, for a moment, mildly insulted.

And then she remembers sitting down. _In the hall_. So, yeah, maybe a little six-ish. Just a _bit_.

Lauren stares down at the duvet which is, wrong color notwithstanding, semi-stylish though the feel of it tells her it's not all that high a thread count and so, really, it's faux quality. Trash disguising itself as high end (by the end of the night that idea will take on an entirely new meaning for her) but she refuses to look _under_ it.

Nothing good can come from that. _Nothing_.

At worse, Lauren figures, she's naked. And even the high parts of her brain (still quite a few, but fewer by the moment) don't want to think about that and not _just_ because they're still wondering where the chips are.

Or maybe she's _not_ naked. But there _is_ a long surgical scar up her side and she's missing a kidney… but… _wait_ … that would take longer than an hour (right?)... and she'd have to be in a bathtub full of ice for that (and Shane used all the ice for the beer) (she thinks) (it _was_ a _lot_ of ice) and not under one of the faux-decent duvets in one of the Harvey's bedrooms… _unless_ … what if Shane's family maintains its status (not Booker level but then, who is?) with money from an illegal organ harvesting black market and _that's_ what his mom sells out of the trunk of her car?

Or maybe that's just the brownie talking. The _third_ one.

(and she's totally not afraid to run her hand along her side just to make sure) (she will) (soon)

Most likely (like at least 65%) she's still fully clothed and she's got all her internals and someone was just kind and semi-thoughtful enough to help her out of the hall and into the bed and tucked her in for her own safety and there's nothing nefarious about it at all.

Maybe.

Probably.

Likely. At least 68%.

But, seriously… where _the fuck_ are the _chips_?

The door opens and Lauren grabs the top of the duvet (and she _so_ should have checked under it but too late _now_ ) as someone walks in and she can't see their face at first, in the shadows by the door, but she can see the plate and the bottles of water and, she notes, she doesn't see a brownie anywhere.

She's both relieved and disappointed all at once.

The door shuts and the face she can't see comes into the light and Lauren recognizes _her_ instantly (like anyone at Hester _wouldn't_ know Amy Raudenfeld) and it isn't her boyfriend and she's relieved and disappointed all at once. Again.

(but mostly relieved and yeah, that should really tell her _something_ )

But then Lauren realizes it's _Amy_ (like _the_ Amy)and suddenly that urge to check _under_ the duvet returns tenfold cause yes, she knows lesbians don't want _every_ girl they see.

But she's … _her._

Amy shuffles around the room with the plate and the bottles balanced on her arms, like a waitress and Lauren vaguely remembers hearing something about the tall blonde working at that little cafe (Twin? Twat? Oh… _Twain_ ) downtown. She sits down on the other side of the bed (a safe distance away, almost… _respectful_ ) and plops a plate and water down in front of Lauren.

"Thought you might be hungry," Amy says but she doesn't actually look at Lauren, focusing instead on cracking the cap on her own bottle of water.

Lauren doesn't move (cause maybe _naked_ ) but she eyes the plate, her hunger at war with her suspicions. It's piled high (no pun intended) with munchies from snack table, including a generous helping of Cool Ranch goodness and Lauren feels a momentary flicker of appreciation, which is instantaneously overwhelmed by a flicker… no… a fire… no… a fucking four alarm _blaze_ of desire to pick the plate up in both hands and shovel it all into her mouth in one titanic gulp.

_This_ , she knows, is why she doesn't do drugs. She'd be three hundred pounds and living on Liam's couch while his servants hooked her to Cool Ranch IV's and she mainlined carbs.

Mmmm… _carbs._

Amy watches as she takes a long sip of her water, eyeing Lauren over the top of the bottle, and she can't miss the way Lauren's eyes focus in (like lasers) ( _hungry_ lasers) on the chips.

"You kept mentioning them," Amy says, nodding at the Cool Ranch stack. "Like over and over, you were almost… _moaning_."

There's a hint (a little more than a hint, really) of a smile on Amy's face as she describes this _moaning_ , the word almost a whisper as she says it, like it's a secret or something just between them, something she might breathe into Lauren's ear as her hands slowly…

Fuck.

Lauren tightens her death grip on the top of the duvet and ignores the some kinda way the word ( _moaning)_ tripping off Amy's tongue in that (moaning) whisper might make her feel cause _that_ is all bullshit and being high and it doesn't mean a damn thing.

She's _sure_.

(at least 38%) (give or take)

"You're fully dressed under there, I promise," Amy says and now there's no mistaking the smile and Lauren frowns, her grip not loosening in the slightest. "So, if you're feeling hungry…" She nudges the plate in Lauren's direction and the tiny blonde reaches out, slowly (of course), her eyes never leaving Amy as she plucks one chip (the biggest, natch) from the pile.

Two bites in and Lauren's sitting up, the duvet pooled around her waist (and she _is_ fully dressed, so score one for Raudenfeld, _two_ if you count the chips and Lauren _so_ does) and the Cool Ranchers are disappearing at an alarming rate.

Amy watches with more than a little bit of awe (which, considering it's Amy, is saying _something_ ) as Lauren takes down the chips in handfuls. "One too many brownies?" she laughs.

Lauren pauses, mid-chip, and glares at the other girl. Sure, she _is_ high (sorta) (still) (just a little) but that was an _accident_ and clearly _not her fault_ and she doesn't need _anyone_ (not even the bringer of the chips) broadcasting her… indiscretion… to the world.

What would her pageant friends think? Or colleges? Or grad schools or the constituencies of her eventual Congressional (and, sooner or later, Presidential) campaigns?

"I'm not high," Lauren says around a mouthful of chip. "And I don't appreciate you suggesting otherwise." She bites off one last chip, but they've lost their flavor and she drops the rest of her handful back onto the plate.

"Right," Amy says. Her nod shows agreement, the smile says otherwise. "Not high. Not even a little bit." She snags a chip from her own plate. "You just felt like the hallway floor looked especially comfy, like a perfect spot for a nap." She fiddles with the cap of her water bottle, rolling it back and forth across her knuckles. "Been there, done that, _totally_ wasn't high when I did it it either."

"I," Lauren says, _again_ , putting a bit more force behind the words, making it crystal fucking clear that she means it. "Am. Not. High."

Amy stares at her for a moment, the cap stalling between her ring and middle fingers and Lauren gets the idea that she's mulling it over, her brain working through all the possible comebacks and punchlines and sarcastic retorts (Amy strikes her as something of a sarcasm queen… or a _princess_ , at least) and Lauren waits for it, waits for the inevitable moment when Amy goes from possibly nice hall-rescuer and chip-bringer to the total fuckboy she really is.

Or, you know… the lesbian equivalent.

"OK," Amy says, finally, the cap resuming its journey, but _she_ stays right where she is, sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping her water and watching Lauren like it's all perfectly normal, like it happens to her all the time and Lauren can't help wondering if maybe it _does_. Maybe, she thinks, Amy makes a habit out of plucking young and innocent (or _mostly_ innocent cause, really, it doesn't count if it's done _to_ you and not _by_ you, right?) girls up off the floor and plying them with chips and water and… _nice_ … and that's how _she_ gets _hers._

But then she sees the ring on Amy's finger, the one with the little heart pointing inward, the one that the water bottle cap keeps rolling over and Lauren remembers that her chip savior is also the 'my' in _Karmy_ (and God, how she hates 'ship' names and no, that has nothing to do with being one half of _Booper_ ) (yes it does) (it _so_ fucking _does_.) She remembers that somewhere out there, in the midst of the drunk and the stoned (and, not that she knows it yet, _her boyfriend_ ) is Amy's other half and though she's never actually _met_ Karma, she's _seen_ her enough (though not nearly in as much… _detail_... as she _will_ ) and she's always by Amy's side, attached at the hip or the hand or the lips and so, no, she guess Amy probably doesn't need hallway floor girls to 'get hers'.

So, maybe, Amy's just being _nice_ because Amy _is_ nice and that is something Lauren's not used to, not in the slightest.

And she doesn't fucking like it. Not one teeny tiny bit.

"Look," Lauren says, reasserting control of the situation because _Lauren_. "I appreciate you bringing me in here and all and not leaving me in the hallway." Amy nods ( _nicely_ ) and takes a bite of her chip before crinkling her nose and dropping it onto a napkin Lauren never even saw her bring in. "But if you think that -"

"You were out _there_ ," Amy says, cutting her off. "And people kept stepping over you and some of them were starting to joke about doing… _things_ … and… _Liam_ … was nowhere to be found, so…"

There's a tone to her voice when she says the name ( _Liam_ ) and Lauren recognizes it immediately. It's the same tone she used to hear _them_ say _her_ name in, back in Dallas, always in whispers in the halls or in dark corners at parties, always by the people who were _just_ popular enough to be there or knew someone just popular enough. The people who would go back to their faux-quality-duvet-like lives the next morning while she _stayed._

_They_ hated _her_. They hated her for it.

Or maybe because _she_ hated _them_ for it. She could never be quite sure.

"Well…." she says, trying to ignore the tone because, let's face it, Liam really is worthy of _that_ and she knows it. "Thank you then. And I'm… sorry… if I had any… misconceptions about why you might have… saved me."

Amy pauses, her water bottle inches from her lips. "Misconceptions," she says, like she's letting the word roll around in her mouth, tasting it, getting a _feel_ for it. "That your fancy way of saying you thought I brought you in here to fuck you?" Lauren's eyes fall on the duvet and she may as well be holding up a giant neon _YES, I THOUGHT THE LESBIAN WANTED ME_ sign.

But come on. She's _her_.

"Or maybe," Amy says, her tone never changing or wavering and she may as well have been asking Lauren out for ice cream after the big game. "Maybe you thought I was gonna cut you open and steal a kidney." She cocks her head slightly, frowning. "But then you would have been in the tub instead of the bed and I would've needed ice and Shane -"

"Used it all for the beer," Lauren says without thinking and out of the corner of her eye she sees Amy smile at her and there's just a bit of shock (and maybe a little _impressed_ ) dancing in the other blonde's eyes. "I'm high, not stupid," Lauren says. "And… you were… _nice_. So, thank you. _Again_."

There's a look on Amy's face, one Lauren will get to know quite well (the one she has in the _exact_ moment one week later, the very _second_ before she pins Lauren against the closet door and kisses her) a look that screams 'I want to say something but it's _so_ not a good idea but when has that _ever_ stopped me before but I'm trying to be _better_ '.

Right then (and a week later, in her room, against her closet door, with Lauren wearing nothing but her doughnut shirt) Amy's better angels win out and she keeps her mouth shut.

Two weeks later, in the quad, watching Karma verbally shred Lauren (the phrases 'fake ass bitch', 'cheating whore' and 'cheap Dallas _trash_ ' will _all_ be used) while what seems like the _entire_ student body watches?

Amy's better angels will take a vacation.

But _this_ night, she settles for a nod and standing up. "I'm gonna get back out there," she says, though she doesn't make any move toward the door or even away from the bed. "Unless you… needed something else?"

"I'm good," Lauren says. "I should get back out there too. Make sure Liam hasn't wandered off into traffic or something." She says it _too_ but she doesn't make any move _either_.

"Yeah," Amy nods ( _again_ ), "he does have a habit of doing stupid things when he's high."

(she'll find _that_ out for _sure_ in about five minutes)

"And the rest of the time too," Lauren says before she can stop herself. "I mean… you know… sometimes… I mean we _all_ do stupid…"

She hangs her head. Fucking brownies. Even her damage control sucks.

"It's OK," Amy says. "Your secret is safe with me." Lauren eyes her skeptically (cause Lauren and trust… yeah… _right_.) "What?" Amy asks. "You think you're the only one to ever hook up with someone you can't hold a conversation with?"

If Lauren had been (not high) _thinking_ , she might have remembered the stories, the ones she'd heard when she first got to Hester, the ones about the true and perfect love of the legendary _Karmy_ , the ones whispered in her ear.

_They were each other's firsts. They've never even looked at anyone else. Amy would die for Karma. Karma truly cares for Amy._

If she _wasn't_ high and _was_ thinking, Lauren might remember those and that might have put Amy's comments in… a different _light._ But Lauren _is_ high and she _isn't_ thinking and so…

"We're _dating_ ," Lauren spits. "We are not _hooking up_. Why would you think that? What have you heard? What did he _say_?"

Amy takes a step back, a tiny bit of confusion (and maybe a hint of fear) (like 12%) ( _maybe_ ) in her eyes at Lauren's zero-to-one-hundred. "Nothing," she says. "I haven't heard _anything_ and even if… _he_ … said something, he sure as hell wouldn't say it to _me_ , so…"(and there's that tone again.) "I didn't mean anything by it," she says, "I just… assumed…"

She knows it's the wrong thing to say even as it's leaving her mouth and Amy has to admit, she's surprised.

This is like the longest she's ever gone without saying the _wrong_ thing. A personal best. And that, really, doesn't mean _much_ and she squeezes her eyes shut and prays for an earthquake or a forest fire or a mudslide or the fucking Rapture to come right then and there because _any_ of that would be better than…

"You _assumed_?"

Fuck. No Rapture.

"I didn't mean -" Amy tries (though not too hard) to defend herself, but Lauren's having _none_ of it.

"No?" she asks. She's up now, shuffling on her knees to the edge of the bed which puts her right about eye level with Amy. "You didn't mean to suggest that just because I'm dating someone I _must_ be putting out?"

Amy's momentarily sidetracked by 'putting out' (but not enough to _laugh_ cause she's not _that_ stupid, the last three minutes notwithstanding) but then Lauren's jabbing a finger in her chest and she focuses again on the tiny blonde on the bed.

(and if _that_ thought, the whole tiny blonde on the _bed_ thought, makes Amy feel _something_ , maybe a little something she hasn't felt in _a while_ , and makes her subconsciously twirl the ring on her finger and maybe stare at Lauren a little _too long_?)

(yeah, she's ignoring _the fuck_ out of that)

(for the moment)

"So," Lauren says with a bit of snarl (and _that_ shouldn't be nearly as _hot_ as it is), "you weren't implying that I'm one of _those_ girls?"

"Which girls?" Amy chokes out, the words already slipping free even as she realizes that _which_ girls, specifically, doesn't matter in the least.

Lauren't jabbing pauses for a second, the tip of her finger still pressed against Amy's chest (and no, _neither_ of them is noticing _a thing_ about _that_.) " _Those_ girls," she snaps. "The kind that might fall for the whole knight… or knight _ess_ (is that a word?)... in shining armor bit. The ones that get their validation through dating someone hot and rich and popular and _keep_ him by giving up whatever it is he wants, settling for a couple of minutes of getting off so they can feel better about themselves, at least for a week or two or until the next time they get drunk or high and have to consider their life choices and just how _shitty_ those choices have always been."

There's a look on Amy's face (not _that_ look, not the better angels one) and for a _long_ moment, Lauren thinks the taller blonde is about to break, about to crack and cry and lose her _shit_ and she's got no idea what to do with _that_.

But as quickly as it appears, the look vanishes. "Oh," Amy says. " _Those_ girls."

Lauren teeters back on the bed, her outburst (and that look) having reminded her that she's still (sorta) high. "Not that it's any of your business," she says. "But I don't _hook up_. My self esteem, self image, and self worth are all just fine, thank you very much and I don't need some dude's five minutes of fumbling around _down there_ to make _me_ feel worthy."

"Clearly," Amy mumbles and that look is back, for a second, but then she grabs her bottle of water and nods, turning for the door. She pauses, just for a moment, her hand on the knob.

"What?" Lauren snaps.

Amy shakes her head. "Nothing," she says. "It's just… _those girls_?" Her thumb rolls the ring around and around and around on her finger and she stares at the wall, unable to actually look at Lauren. "It's a shame, really," she says. "It's sad, you know? How they sell themselves and… _everyone else…_ so short."

She glances back at Lauren as she opens the door and there's something in her eyes (that look again, only _worse_ , past cracking and breaking and crying, almost… _lost_ ) that Lauren doesn't understand but it makes her want to jump off the bed and cradle Amy and hold her until it passes and Lauren _really_ doesn't know what to do with that.

But it doesn't matter.

Because then Amy is gone, out the door, leaving Lauren there, in the bed with her chips and her water and the last fading remnants of her high. And she's never quite felt so alone.


End file.
